So I asked FireMan about it last night, what he thought about asking her if she had long-term openings for FireGirl.

He asked what type of schedule I was thinking. I told him four days a week for now (she goes to preschool one day a week thru May), then once my parents are able & willing to watch her, two or three days per week after that, depending on what my parents want to do.
He said no.

Basically, our thoughts are the exact opposite.

He'd rather she be in the facility setting. Or the babysitter is his 2nd choice.

Although I'm pretty sure the babysitter as the 2nd choice is a strictly financial one. She's cheaper by $10/day (since we're technically part time our rates are daily).

His logic behind choosing the facility setting over the in-home setting is two-fold.

#1 - he feels she will have greater opportunity for academic developmenthmmm.... yes, and no. More stuff, yes. But listen. FireGirl is already ahead academically. On what few items her preschool tracks at this age, she's already performing at the level of their four-year-old class in several areas. Two years ahead of schedule. So no, I'm not convinced that putting her in a large class (10 students) with a set curriculum aimed at two-year-olds is going to help her advance at all. In fact, it may hinder her academic development.Personally, I think considering the in-home professional has a curriculum she follows for each age, and a smaller number of children, that FireGirl has better opportunity for moving forward at her own pace in that setting than in a facility.

#2 - he feels her social development will progress better in the facility setting, since there are more children, and they will all be her ageokay, this one is more valid. And more sensitive for him. She has been behind socially, although this has all but vanished since she started pre-school three months ago. So there's definitely an argument for this. But being devil's advocate, I also think she would benefit from being around children of all ages as well (in-home provider ages range from infant thru age five, with 1-3 other children being close to FireGirl's age on any given day).

If she goes full-time the cost of each is comparable. If she goes part-time, the in-home provider is significantly cheaper, because the facility lowers their per day rate significantly based on the number of days attending. Both are licensed by the state. The facility just received it's 4th star earlier this year. The in-home provider has 3 stars (rating system issued by the state, four being the highest).

Ugh. It goes back to my earlier post. There is no "right" or "wrong" answer. It's just different.

But what do you do when the parents disagree on what is best for your child? What if your spouse doesn't want to send your child to the day care you fell in love with? What if the idea of sending your child to the day care your spouse has chosen makes you horribly uncomfortable? What then?
We have to decide, fill out forms, and make arrangements so she can start at one or the other on January 3rd.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Well, here it is. Four years as a full-time firefighter, and we have the first time Jason has to work Christmas Day. We've been blessed by the timing of Leap Year. Other families have been cursed by it.

We got a small taste of what it will be like on Thanksgiving. It stinks. We did Thanksgiving with his family on Tuesday night. Thanksgiving with my family went on as planned on Thursday, without him. I had originally planned on leaving around 2pm to drive Jena and myself down to visit him, but since my family lives two hours from his firehouse, he told me he didn't want us driving that much, especially on the holiday with all the "crazies". So we didn't even see each other.

I think it bothered me more than it did him.

See, for him, it was a normal work day. Pretend nothing was different, and it doesn't seem so bad, right? But to me, being at my aunt's house, surrounded by family, repeatedly answering questions about where Jason was, even just the fact that we were doing our normal... without him. It just felt... weird.

Jodi no likey.

But, that is the life of the FireFamily, right? That is what we signed up for.

So this Christmas will be different.

Santa will come to our house the night of the 23rd, and we will celebrate Christmas Eve morning as if it were Christmas morning. And Jena will certainly not know the difference yet, which is grand. We will open presents and have breakfast together as a family, the three of us, then head over to his parents' house to have Christmas with his family on Christmas Eve (as usual).

The hard part will be Christmas Day.

There will be a part of me that I know will be sad waking up Christmas Day knowing that our Christmas morning is already over.
And Jena & I will get up and get ready and head over to my parents' house to have Christmas over there with my family, as usual (although a little earlier than usual, since we don't have to do our Christmas morning this year), and that will be weird.

Jason has never not been there, since I've met him. I will miss his presence, miss sharing that day with him. I anticipate... part of me will be sad.

My hope is... that Jena will be so enthralled by her aunts & uncles & cousins & grandparents & presents & decorations & lights, that perhaps by the time she thinks to ask where Daddy is it will be time to kiss her goodnight... and he willl walk in the door the next morning.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A few days ago FireGirl and I spent the day babysittingtaking care of visiting my dad so my mom could get some Christmas shopping done.

It. Was. Wonderful.

We got there around 12noon. Mom got home from shopping around 5:30pm. We left around 8:30pm. It was great.

Dad looks awesome! Really. He said he wishes people would stop telling him that because he doesn't really feel any better, and I told him that he may not notice the difference day by day, but since it had been 10 days since I had seen him... he looks awesome compared to 10 days earlier, much improved.

Honestly, if you didn't know better, you really wouldn't even know he had a triple bypass just a couple of weeks ago. I mean, he's tired, and still took two naps that day, and has to be really careful moving around, can't pick FireGirl up yet, etc. - but other than that, you'd never know. He didn't need to take any pain pills the entire day, had no acid reflux the entire day (a huge improvement), and really just seemed to feel great, no matter what he said.

While he & FireGirl took their afternoon nap, I downloaded some pics from my mom's camera onto our laptop. We usually do this regularly, but were already behind when all this happened, so had about two months worth of pictures to download. Oh, and my mom is a total camera-hound, so there are always a ton, which I am grateful for.

I couldn't help but get choked up at the pictures from late November. Pictures of FireGirl playing outside with her grandpa. There was a moment when I realized the "what if's". What if his doctor hadn't ordered the stress test? What if my dad had decided to reschedule it till after the holidays? What if? What if? What if? I stared at this one picture forever. I just couldn't help but think that at one point in time there was a very real possibility that it could have been the last picture ever taken of FireGirl & Grandpa together.

So after they woke up, and Dad felt good enough to move over to the couch so FireGirl could snuggle in next to him (he can't have her on his lap just yet) to watch her "show" (30 min DVD of kids songs to video of kids & animals), I couldn't help but just sit & watch them. At one point I thought of getting up to get the camera, but I didn't want to ruin the moment, didn't want to miss even one second of it.

I left there that day happier than I'd been in a long time. Renewed. Appreciative of the life we've been given. Appreciative of second chances. We all get second chances, don't we, in one way or another? Chances we don't necessarily deserve, but are mercifully given anyway.

Monday, December 20, 2010

So in my post the other day I mentioned that I am not comfortable putting FireGirl in a school-type daycare setting for an extended period of time during the week.

I just want to make it clear that I am not in any way, shape, or form against daycare centers, Montessori or otherwise. Not one little bit.
Daycare facilities are a valid, worthwhile choice for working parents, an option that, like all others, has its own sets of pros and cons.

It's just an option that I am not comfortable with, for my daughter, for our family, for our current situation.

See, there's this theory I have on parenting, that, well, everyone is different. Every child is different. Every family is different. Every situation is different. What works for one won't work for another. What is ideal for one isn't ideal for another.

I think there is very little "right" or "wrong" (assuming there is no abuse or neglect, of course), but just figuring out what works for you and yours.

So really, just because I might say that I choose to do something with FireGirl that maybe you didn't do, or that I'm not doing something that you did, or what-not, it doesn't mean that I think that you're wrong, or made a bad decision. It just means that I don't think it's best for us, right now. And that's okay too. And it doesn't bother me one bit if you want to do things differently than we did. Go right ahead. Won't hurt my feelings at all!

side note - I really wish I could also get my mother-in-law to understand this point as well. She seems to get very offended if I don't do things exactly as she did, or if I ask her to do something for FireGirl that is something she didn't do with her kids. Even if it's something the pediatrician told us to do (ie "I didn't have to do that with my kids"). Ugh.

So, back to the daycare.

I recently came across an in-home daycare whose contract / curriculum / and schedule I love. She is fully licensed, she runs a structured program, but it is run out of her home. I've been to her home and seen the setup. FireGirl has already played with this woman's daughter.
The bonuses? She lives right in-between my home & work. Ten minutes from each. Short detour into her neighborhood, but otherwise it's on the way. And her rates are very reasonable.
I am comfortable with this. For us, this feels right to me.

Of course, I have no idea what her long-term openings are, haven't discussed it with FireMan, none of that. So I don't even know if it's possible. But I'm hopeful.

What I would actually love to see is for FireGirl to attend there four days a week for now (she still attends preschool one day a week thru May), then once my dad's health is better and they feel they are able & willing to watch her again (they've already expressed how much they miss watching her), we could drop down to two days with my parents, two days at the in-home daycare, and one day at pre-school.

And if for some reason she's not available, I'm hoping she can recommend a similar in-home provider in our area.

That, I think, would work very well for our family. For FireGirl. That, I am comfortable with.

Now, I can't decide if I should talk to her first to check her availability and see what she thinks about my plan, or if I should talk to FireMan first. FireMan doesn't usually like being bothered with these details, so I kinda want to know as much as I can before I approach him. But at the same time I don't want to talk to her and get her hopes up of having another client if he's gonna shoot her down. Hmmmm.....

Friday, December 17, 2010

It dawns on me that I forgot to update you on My Fat Butt after my first monthly checkup with my endocrinologist.

So, about a week or so ago, I had my first monthly checkup. At that point I had lost a total of 14 lbs! Like I mentioned before, a significant portion of that was water weight, but still.

We talked about any side effects, my weight loss, how I'm feeling, etc. Checked my vitals, did a physical exam, etc.

Then I asked him about the water weight thing. He went into this long explanation (one of the reasons I heart this doctor - he's really good about explaining things to me) about how our body processes food, and how my insulin disorder screwed up how my body processed food, and﻿ said that the water molecules are actually attached to the sugar molecules in the cells, and had they stayed there long enough, would have eventually turned into fat. So the fact that I lost so much water weight (and yes, we actually discussed how much I peed, in order for him to confirm that it was water weight, ha!) is a very good sign that not only is his original diagnosis right on, but that this course of treatment is working very well for me. He went on to say that not all patients lose the water weight like that, and they have to "tweak" their medicine, adding this, taking away that, to get the right combo to get their body to process food correctly. But so far it looks like this combo is working very well for me.

His hope is that over time my body will re-learn how to process food correctly, and we can eventually wean off of most, if not all, of the medication. Hopefully. Although because of my family history of diabetes he said he would want to keep a close eye on my insulin performance pretty much forever and ever, just to be safe.

So, before I left he told me not to be surprised if I didn't lose as much weight this month. He said some patients do, but most don't, especially if they, like me, have lost a lot of water weight the first month. But not to get discouraged, keep with it, etc.

He explained that for some reason that even the medical community doesn't understand, weight loss tends to come in stair steps - large loss, plateau, loss, plateau, rinse, repeat. He said it is rare to find evenly trending weight loss over time, no matter what the method. Interesting.

And he said he was "pleased with my progress, and my efforts". He said that yes, I would have lost some amount of weight just from the medication regulating everything, but I would not have lost 14 lbs if I weren't also been following my calorie restriction as instructed. So, yay! for me last month.

But...

To be honest, with all the stress I've been under the past few weeks... I haven't been counting my calories. At all. I know I'm not eating as much as before. Not nearly as much. But... I just haven't been counting. Bad FireWife, I know. It's such a little thing, but it just seems like... one more thing.

Is that stupid? Sometimes I think it is. But sometimes it feels like it's one of the few things that I have the privilege of saying "no" to. One of the few things I can let go by the wayside for now as I get my life together.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Seriously. This is a mushy, praise-my-hubby, no-he-didn't-hack-my-account, I'm-actually-writing-this post.

Thru all of this, FireMan has been awesome.

Awesome in a who-are-you? and where's-my-real-husband? sorta way.

Actually, he started being awesome before the crap went down, maybe... six to eight weeks ago? I kept thinking about writing about him, but to be honest, after everything we struggled with this year, I was scared it was a phase. Maybe he was sick or something, ha!

But... he's kept it up, going strong, and with everything with my dad, and our daycare struggles, and how stressed out and awful I've been at times, he has been... just perfect.

Okay, maybe not perfect, because no one is, but seriously, awesome just doesn't begin to describe.

A few weeks ago I joked with him that I couldn't decide if I finally got back the man that I married, or if I someone better had taken his place.

But I'm only half-joking.

I don't think he's ever been so patient with me, so attentive to FireGirl, so considerate of us. Ever.

But you know... the more time that passes, and the more consistent that he is... the more I think maybe, just maybe, this time it's real. That it really does seem like a real and lasting change. Or maybe not so much a change as a reversion back to who he really is, and the mire we went thru this year was a misstep for him. A bad huge one, to be sure, but...

I guess what I'm saying, in this post that I intended to be solely about how awesome my husband has been lately, is that my husband's recent and so-far-lasting awesomeness has me hopeful, really hopeful about our marriage.

And that is one of the few bright spots in my life right now. FireMan, and Hope.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Ever since my dad's surgery, I feel like I'm teetering on the edge. Like I'm walking this fine line, and that I'm gonna fall off at any moment. Or maybe one day I'll just get tired of struggling to stay on it, and I'll jump off.

Truth be told, it doesn't really take much to push me over that edge right now.

I had a breakdown at Toys-R-Us yesterday because I couldn't find winter pajamas that I liked in FireGirl's size for her to wear Christmas morning, and thru the rest of the winter.

I got mad, like really angry, at FireMan the other day because he off-handedly called me "boring".

I told you, it doesn't take much.

And in case you've never walked the edge of a steep cliff, or balanced on a tight rope, or anything similar, it also takes an enormous amount of energy just to keep going.

So I'm constantly exhausted.

I just keep telling myself I just have to make it to January. If I can just get thru this year, get thru the rest of this month, next year will be better, 2011 is gonna be awesome. Right?

Please don't tell me any differently, because right now that's keeping me going.

So that's me in a nutshell right now. On the edge. I really don't know how else to describe it. Just teetering on the edge.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I received this story as an email forward from a friend a few days ago and thought it was too good not to share, so I'm sharing it with you.

**************

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: 'I don't believe that God exists.'

'Why do you say that?' asked the customer.

'Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children?

If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things.'

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument.

The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop.Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard.

He looked dirty and unkempt. The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber:

'You know what? Barbers do not exist.'

'How can you say that?' asked the surprised barber. 'I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!'

'No!' the customer exclaimed. 'Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside.'

'Ah, but barbers DO exist! That's what happens when people do not come to me.'

'Exactly!' affirmed the customer. 'That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! That's what happens when people do not go to Him and don't look to Him for help. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world.'

***************

I really like this story. It's not a perfect picture of God, but it makes a good point.﻿

I know God exists because I have experienced His work in my life.

If you have not experienced this, you may doubt His existence. And you know what? No matter how many times I tell you what great haircuts I have gotten He has done for me, no matter how many barbershops churches full of satisfied fulfilled customers parishioners you may pass each day, well, for some people none of that will ever be enough. They'll never believe that barbers God exists until they get a haircut realize His work in their own lives

The problem? You can't see how great the barber's God's work can be, until you walk into his shop acknowledge His existence.

Just because you have not gotten your hair cut realized God's work in your life yet, doesn't mean the barber He doesn't exist.
Maybe, just maybe, it simply means that you haven't met hHim yet.

Monday, December 13, 2010

I'm tired of struggling. Tired of fighting. Tired of not being good enough. Well, tired of not feeling like I'm good enough.

I'm tired of wondering. Tired of watching. Tired of waiting. Tired of battling. Tired of proving myself. Tired of taking the high road.

Tired of being tired.

Tired of being judged. Tired of being accused. Tired of never having enough to give. Tired of feeling like I'm not satisfying... anyone. Tired of being pulled in all directions. Tired of giving 110%, but since that means everyone only gets about 5% each, tired of shortchanging everyone in my life.

Tired of being on the edge. Tired of teetering over the edge.

Tired of being dependent. Tired of others being dependent on me. Tired of everyone wanting a piece of me. Tired of no one wanting me.

Tired of giving.

Tired of wondering. Tired of thinking. Tired of being wary. Tired of not trusting. Tired of not trusting. Tired of not trusting. Tired of not trusting.

Tired of not trusting.

Tired of being "on" 24/7. Tired of being looked down on. Tired of being judged. Tired of others not thinking I'm doing a good job.

I'm doing the best I can.

Tired of being sorry. Tired of being tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of being tired.

Tired of wondering. Tired of waiting. Tired of thinking. Tired of being reminded. Tired of caring. Tired of wondering.

Tired of being sick. Tired of staying awake. Tired of no sleep. Tired of this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Tired of wondering. Tired of watching. Tired of waiting.

Tired of being told I'm weak. Tired of choosing my battles, then being told I should've still fought harder. Whose war is this anyway?

Tired of being wary. Tired of wondering. Tired of not trusting. Tired of not trusting. Tired of not trusting.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Did I tell you we got our furnace up & working? It's been a few weeks (thank goodness!), but I don't think I ever told you that.

Still, we use the wood-burning fireplace as our primary source of heat, and the furnace rarely kicks on. Especially with the new doors & windows we put in.

Like, we leave for work in the morning, come back over nine hours later, and it's still 65 degrees in the house, furnace never kicked on once, even with the outside temp being in the teens the past few nights.

Wood heat is nice. It's free, for one thing. And I love the smell. Especially considering our house is nestled in a hickory grove, and we lost a few large limbs during a windstorm about 6 weeks ago, that are now providing us some good firewood. Hickory is hardwood, which means that it burns long (ie. one decent sized log will burn all night), and it smells awesome. Think hickory-smoked bacon. Yum! There's a reason they use hickory for that stuff.

Wood heat does have it's drawbacks though. Having wood in the house pretty much means that the fireplace room will never be 100% clean during the winter months. Because with the wood comes traces of leaves, twigs, dirt, bark, and the lovely wood roaches that we discovered in our home (now gone). And with the fire comes ashes and soot, and it makes your house more dusty than usual.And then there are the splinters. Before this year I couldn't tell you the last time I'd gotten a splinter. Now? Several times a week.

And I burned my finger earlier this week. Wasn't paying attention while putting wood in and touched the edge of the insert. Owie!

And you have to start the fire every time you come home.

And tend to it while you're there. Like all the time. Because if you forget, it goes out and you have to start all over, which is just annoying.

My dad is doing well, I suppose. He had his follow-up with the surgeon yesterday, who said he looked really good and seemed to be doing really well, but dad hasn't been feeling well at all.

He's been sick to his stomach, hasn't been able to keep much food down, and when he does feel like eating, has horrible acid reflux. He finally got some meds to help with the acid reflux, but he still doesn't feel well, has no energy, etc.

I know some of that is to be expected, but I just worry that if he doesn't eat he won't have the strength his body needs to heal. In fact, he's supposed to weigh himself every day. If he gains too much in one day, he has to call the surgeon for concerns about fluid retention. If he loses too much in one week (I think), he has to call the surgeon. The words "feeding tube" have been heard. I don't like it.

*********************

We toured a daycare yesterday. It was really nice. I guess. I mean, the facility is awesome. The setup is awesome. And starting at age three it doubles as a Montessori preschool. They have two activity areas, great classrooms, good teacher/student ratios, the best security system I've ever seen on a daycare, plus they have weekly music, dance, and art "classes" for all age groups. And with the discount I get with my new permanent employee status, it's a decent price - if you go at least three days per week.

So what's the problem? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with FireGirl being in that type of setting for that length of time at this young of age.

I just can't see sending a two year old to a school-type setting for longer than you average 17-year-old spends in school during the week. Nine hours a day? Really?

I mean, she's two. Still a baby, really.

I know, I know. People do it all the time, right? I mean, this daycare has three different infant rooms they have so many little babies. So obviously it works for a lot of families.

But... I'm not feeling comfortable about it. Not at all.

I just don't know what to do.

We have a couple of friends who might be options for watching FireGirl in their home, but that has its pro's and cons as well.

So, basically, I don't know what to do at this point.

And it's tearing me apart.

************************

As for my (sorta) new job, if you ignore the incredible amount of working mom's guilt I feel right now, and the enormous amount of stress I'm under trying to juggle our sudden daycare dilemma that started the 2nd day of my job, plus the guilt I feel that this is at all affecting my co-workers, but that I just can't help it, because... well, I just can't, then... it's going really well.

I sat down with my boss yesterday and he went over some of my new responsibilities and I actually got excited about my job for the first time in a long time. Like... years. So, I guess that's cool.

************************

Tonight is the Christmas Party at the firehouse. FireMan also happens to be on shift, so after work today I'll be picking FireGirl up from the sitter's, then driving the hour to the firehouse, doing the party, then the hour drive back. I'm excited for the party, but not for the drive, or the late night.

************************

Tomorrow is a wedding for one of FireMan's co-workers. The only female firefighter at his station. And we're going. And of course, it's an adult-only reception, and it's an hour west of our home. Oh, and it's the same night as my family Christmas party. But she's the only one of FireMan's co-workers that came to our wedding, so we're definitely going. And as I'm typing this I suddenly realize that we didn't get her anything yet and I have no idea where she's registered, if anywhere.

Our sitters for tomorrow? My brother, who lives an hour east of our home. So, the wedding's at 4pm, we're dropping FireGirl off at my brother's by 1pm, wedding, formal reception doesn't start until 8pm (I know, right?), gotta stay... what? 10pm minimum, then an hour drive back home. Home by 11pm at the absolute earliest, but like that's really gonna happen. Picking up FireGirl after church on Sunday.

***********************

Because, you know, what's the big deal in not seeing your daughter most of Saturday and half of Sunday just because you already spent Mon-Fri gone at work all week? Right? And you're gonna leave Monday morning to do it all again. No biggie, right? Who cares if your sitter / daycare worker sees your child almost twice as many waking hours as you do? I mean, those waking hours during your child's most formative years surely can't be that important. Can they?

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Okay, this is what I did. My circumstances are unique. This will not work at all companies, or in all circumstances. Heck, change one person in my story, and the outcome could very well have been very different. Badly different. But I know some people out there are really curious, so... here's the very, very short version.

In chronological order:

First, I worked. Hard. I did everything that was asked of me. Seriously. To this day, I don't recall ever telling someone "no". I not only fulfilled my job responsibilities, I took on more. And more. And more.

I did my work well. It didn't take long for co-workers and management to realize that I did a good job, that they could count on me to produce quality work. And I still do.

I worked efficiently. The phrase "Man, you're fast" is still heard around my desk. I can turn out projects, with quality work, in record time.

I built relationships. When asked to work with other divisions, I accepted. I treated everyone with respect, no matter their title, even when I didn't feel like it.

I learned new skills. I asked for classes. I took classes. I developed myself. I found free classes and asked to take them. I found expensive classes and asked to take them. I got additional certifications. All Mostly job-related, of course.

I made it known that I wanted to be a permanent employee. Repeatedly. And again. And one more time.

I very politely explained why it was not in the company's best interest to keep me as a temp. This included financial reports, morale surveys, and stability of someone with my responsibilities.

I formally requested to be hired on (verbally). Set a meeting with my company supervisor, and presented my arguments. When he said he had tried repeatedly to hire me on, and kept getting blocked by someone higher up in the process, I informed him I would begin looking elsewhere.And I did

**note** already having a decent paying job allowed me to be picky. Combine that with the job market going downhill fast, and the only job offers I got increased my commute by 60+ minutes, with no increase in compensation, so I stayed. But the point being that I was prepared to leave, and willing to do so

I formally requested to be hired on (written). This one almost got me in trouble. I wrote a four page letter to my company supervisor outlining the reasons I should be hired on permanently, and requesting a response in writing. When I did not receive a response within 10 days, I sent an identical letter to his supervisor. Another 10 days had followed, and I had already printed the letter to his supervisor, when a meeting was called with HR.

See, when you're employed by an employment agency, they worry about the legality of this little thing called "co-employment". For some reason, when my boss received this letter, he sorta panicked about how to handle it, so he contacted my employment agency, who contacted the HR department of the company I was contracted to.

So when in the middle of the day my boss asks to speak with me (not unusual), but then as we start walking to the conference room I see the rep from my agency, and a member of HR, yeah, I actually thought I was being let go. I. Was. Terrified.

But... I was also ready to fight this battle. Strapped my balls on and stepped into the room.

I let them say what they wanted to say. I let them finish, not saying a word, except to nod when they asked if I understood. Then they asked if I had any questions.

I turned to my agency rep and asked why she was even here. I explained: I wrote a letter directly to the company asking for employment. Nowhere in the letter do I mention the agency. I outline my skills, my strengths, the logical reasons they should hire me. I included a copy of my resume. What does the agency have to do with that?
Silence. Stutter, stutter, stutter. Somebody muttered something about "co-employment".

I turned to the company representatives. "So, your answer is that you're not going to hire me?"
"Not at this time."
"Then I'd like you to leave"
Shocked looks. They left.

I turned to my agency rep and asked her when we were getting our base pay back (18 months prior we had taken a 10% reduction in our base pay that permanent employees did not have to take). She said she didn't know, but that the issue was "on the table" every time she talked with HR. I asked her how often. She said it varied. I asked her who she spoke with. She said she couldn't disclose that. I asked her why. She said privacy. I told her I thought that was very cowardly of these HR ghosts to hide behind her like that.

And then I left the room.

I spoke with a high-ranking company executive.Very high-ranking. I can't express enough how high this guy ranks. He talks, people jump. Sometimes literally. A lot of people are afraid of him. He walks into a room, people literally jump out of their desks to see what he wants. Remember that "building relationships" thing I talked about before? Yeah, we got that.

I ask him what I must do to be a permanent employee (I worded this very carefully, not asking him to hire me, but asking what I must do). He looked confused. I briefly explained the situation. He said he needed to think, and left the room.

He returned about 10 minutes later and called me over to his desk. He said he was confused. You see...

are you ready for this...

when I was pregnant....

the minute those words came out of his mouth, I knew why I hadn't been hired on, and I knew who was responsible (story later, this post is long enough as is).

Anyway... when I was pregnant, the issue of hiring me on was brought up, and he was told that I would no longer be interested because now I was a mother and that was no longer important to me, as if I had expressed this myself. So it was dropped and from then on when it was brought up to him... he had in mind that I was not interested.

I told him no, I was here. I have been here. I am here.

He said "okay"

A few minutes later he asked me to check the schedule of my General Manager, to see if he would be here the next day. He would. He said "I will discuss with him tomorrow. {pause} No... I will order".

And walked away.

Three days later the position was officially approved by HR, and for a company that notoriously takes a loooooong time in its hiring process, this has been shoved thru in record time (although I did still have to go thru the normal application & interview process just like anyone other outside hire).

So now, after six-and-a-half years as a "temp", I am a permanent employee. Doing pretty much the same job, with some increase in responsibility. And a huge increase in employee benefits.

Monday, December 6, 2010

**disclaimer** understanding that not all religions share a belief in a single higher power, or "God", as referenced in this entry, but acknowledging that it would be impossible to actually cite the ultimate goal of each & every individual religion in existence

So, there is an idea out there now that seems to be gaining prevalence in our society and it's one that I don't really understand.

The idea is that there are multiple paths to God.

So, basically, the idea is that you are Religion A, but you also think that Religion B, C, D, and E all lead to God also.

It's a very nice, friendly, all-inclusive idea. But quite frankly, it doesn't make much sense to me.

Religion is not inclusive of other religions. It's not. It's kinda why there are other religions. It's kinda why different religions start, why people convert from one religion to another, etc.

Think about it.

Using Christianity as an example, because that is what I am most familiar:

The foundation of Christianity is that Jesus is God made man, is the Son of God, is the Messiah. Right?

Islam acknowledges Jesus as a prophet and a messenger, but makes it clear that Jesus cannot be God.

Judaism also acknowledges Jesus as a prophet and a great man, but does not recognize him as the Messiah.

So if Christianity is true, the other two cannot be, right?. Therefore, if you believe that Christianity is the path to God, then Islam or Judaism cannot be. Or vice versa. If you follow the Quran as a path to Allah, then how can you believe that Christianity is also a path to Allah?

These thoughts have been mulling in my head for a while. Most recently when someone said that they don't like Christianity because Christians have a superiority complex, believing that theirs is the only way to Heaven.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought, wait, is it just Christians? This doesn't make sense. Don't all religions think that theirs is the only way to Heaven, the only path to God? Isn't that why people are the religion they are in the first place?

I mean, right? Am I missing something here? Isn't that why we all, regardless of which religious / spiritual beliefs we hold true, don't we believe them because we, well... believe them? Because we believe that that particular set of beliefs is correct?
So why are Christians getting the bad rap? Why don't we hear about those arrogant Jewish people, or the superiority complex of those Muslims, or how dare that Buddhist think that he's right?

My theory? I think it's because, generally speaking, Christians talk about it. We admit it. We actually come right out and say it.

"Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me." -- John 14:6

But you know what? Why wouldn't you tell the world? If you honestly believed you had found the one true path to God... why wouln't you share it with others? Why would you keep that knowledge to yourself?

So the question I am struggling with... why hasn't anyone else shared their faith with me? Why the secret? Even friends. In my circle of friends / acquaintances: Jewish, Muslim, Wiccan, Hindu. No one has once volunteered to share their faith, to share their beliefs with me. If I have asked questions, they have been happy to answer. But no one has volunteered the information.

Why?

There is a small part of me that is a little bit... offended? hurt?... that none of these people have chosen to share their one path to God / enlightenment with me. Am I not worth that information? Whether or not I choose to embrace it, if they believe they know the truth, do they not care enough about me to share that knowledge with me?

And then, of course, I must turn the mirror back on myself. Since I believe that I know the Truth, who have I not shared it with? Why or why not? and more importantly... what will I do in the future to change?

Friday, December 3, 2010

Wednesday morning he had a triple bypass. When we left the hospital Wednesday night he still had not regained consciousness.

But Thursday... when I left the hospital last night he was sitting up, talking, trying to eat, and had even taken a short walk! The nurse said he is doing "unusually well for his age". Woo hoo!

They haven't declared him "out of the woods" yet though. Just getting closer to the edge of the treeline. It's a touchy road, and recovery is just as important as the procedure. In some ways I think even moreso.

But still. He's doing really well. They said there was no evidence that he had ever had any episodes of any kind, even minor ones, so his heart is in perfect health, it was just blocked, which is really good for future prognosis.

Right now his biggest complaint is that he's in a lot of pain. Not only from the procedure, but because he has arthritis in his back, and he has to lie in on his back for the vast majority of the day. And hospital beds are just not comfortable. I'm sure I hope there's some medically better-for-you reason why those beds are made that way, but they really aren't. I remember. Especially if you're in them for more than a day. I honestly think patients would do better if they could find a way to make those beds more comfortable. I really, really do.

So, anyway, I guess he had a really rough night last night, from the pain. No problems or complications from the procedure, just a lot of pain, mostly in his back.

He'll be in the hospital, in the cardio-vascular ICU, for at least another three days, then home. Home recovery takes 6-8 weeks, assuming he follows the rules and doesn't screw anything up. There are lots of rules. Like not picking up his granddaughter. At all. Big one. I keep telling him, go six weeks without picking her up and be fine, or pick her up once, break his wires (the wires that are now holding his sternum together), and have to go six months without picking her up. His choice.

Well, I cannot thank all of you enough for all of your thoughts and prayers for my family. I really can't. I'd like to expound on this prayer thing a little more later, but really, THANK YOU.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

You have those moments, right? Those moments where maybe something is driving you crazy now, but at the same time you realize that you would miss it if it were gone? Or rather, you will miss it when it's gone.

I had one the other night.

So, the latest phase I've entered being the mother to a toddler, is the don't-get-to-use-the-bathroom-by-myself phase. Like, ever.

Because if we're at home, she has to be there. Right there. Whether I'm on the potty, brushing my teeth, or taking a shower, she has to be... right there. In our not-very-big bathroom. Right there.

If we're out in public together, she has to be... right there. In the stall with me. And God forbid I try to leave her with Daddy, or Grandma, or whatever other adult we're with so I can pee in peace. Nope. Public tantrum ensues if I even think about it. So. Right there.

And then I think "well, I get to pee alone at work". But not really. Because they're like public restrooms, with eight stalls. So yes, I do manage to get a stall to myself, but it's just not the same as actually getting privacy while you're doing your thing, you know?

And yes, this annoys me. Sometimes, it exasperates me. Some days, all I want is to pee in peace. Or to take a shower without someone pulling back the curtain to see what I'm doing, letting water get all over the bathroom floor.

I have a new found appreciation for using the bathroom by myself. It is a luxury I hope I do not soon take for granted.

So the other morning, I was taking my shower, and Jena was sitting on her little potty next to the tub, not actually going, or even trying to go, but just because it's next to the tub and Mommy's in the shower. I'm rinsing my hair when I feel the familiar cold blast of air that tells me the curtain has been pulled back. Open my eyes to see Jena grinning at me, handing me her "puhple bubble" - her bath soap. Cute, right? But it's been a long night and a long morning already, and I'm more annoyed by the fact that there's water getting all over my formerly dry bath rug and her potty and her, and that we've had this talk a gazillion times before.

I crouch down, still in the tub. Thank her for the bubbles and set them down, explaining that I have my own soap, and point to it. I tell her I need to close the curtain so no more water will get out and on the floor, at which point she looks around and notices all the water. Remember? I say, that's why we don't open curtains while Mommy or Daddy are taking showers. She grins and goes back to her potty to keep her wait-till-Mommy-gets-done vigil.

As I pull the curtain back shut, it hits me.

I'm gonna miss this.

There will come a day, when she will no longer follow me into the bathroom. And I can already see myself, sitting on the toilet, wondering why my bathroom seems so lonely, so quiet.

There will come a day when Jena will have no interest in following me around. Will not cry out for me because I have the nerve to try to pee without her.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

I am currently faithfully following 43 blogs. Wow. I had never counted them before. Forty three.

Some are just funny. Some are informative. Most are just real postings from real people like me.

To be honest, I don't know if they all actually qualify as "blogs". But that's what I call them.

By "faithfully" I mean I check them more than once a week. Usually multiple times a week.

I love them. I've always loved reading. And blogs let me get sucked into forty-three different stories on a regular basis.

I love the blogs of people I know in real life, because our grown-up lives have all too often taken over and we don't get to see each other in real life any more. So I like their blogs because I can see how they're doing, how their kids are growing up. I can revel in their joy, and encourage them in their down times.

I get wrapped up in the stories. I get attached to people I've never met. I cry over hardships. Heck, I cry over happy times. I miss them when they stop posting. Sometimes I friend them on Facebook.

I try to comment when so moved, but not when I see 672 people have already commented. I've set a personal rule of not commenting if they've already received 10 comments. I don't know where I came up with 10, but I use the same rule on message boards.

Yep. I love blogs.

And I'm sure you're just dying to know my favorites? Well, I refuse to name favorites, because I like them all, that's why I check them all regularly. So here are a random few that I heart.

So that's it. I love blogs. Hope you like mine. And I hope that maybe if you don't recognize one of these blogs you'll check out at least one of the one of those I've linked here, and maybe you'll like one of them too.﻿

But also because of some Facebook statuses and comments.
And because of some message board happenings.
And some family conversations.
And some work occurrences.

Basically, I've been disagreeing with a lot of people lately. Or they've been disagreeing with me. Depending on how you look at it.

And on occasions when I've disagreed with others, no matter how nicely I have tried to word my opposing view point, these are some of the words that have been used to describe me and / or my statements:

disrespectful

judgemental

offensive

filled with hate & fear

insane

crazy

stupid

b****y

Now, I'm not perfect. Far from it.I'm not opposed to criticism. And I believe when you receive criticism you should take it, reflect on your actions, and learn how to improve for the future. Of course, sometimes this happens after you stop fuming, but still. You take it, and learn from it.So... one occasion (Facebook), yes. I was judging. I actually caught it before anyone commented. This is why you shouldn't FB before 6am. Or at least I shouldn't.

Another occasion (message board), I realized I might have come across as judgemental, even though that certainly wasn't the actual case, apologized the next time I was on, and got flack for apologizing. Nice.

But every other occasion? Every one... after being called whatever lovely term my listeners chose, I reviewed my statements, sometimes repeatedly, and then one more time, and then I talked it over with someone, and then I thought about it some more, and then I slept on it, and then I thought about it some more, and finally... I concluded that no, I was not being crazy, hateful, stupid, fearful, insane, b****y, judgemental, offensive, or disrespectful.

I was, simply, stating a viewpoint that someone else disagreed with.

Still... I do not understand why stating my own personal viewpoints created such emotional responses in others, simply because they were different from their own.

I have some theories on societal responses to conflict.
I have some theories based on what I know of each of these individuals.
But I don't know. Not really. I may never know.

What I do know is that I have spent way too much time reviewing past conversations, trying to figure out why someone else felt they way they did in response to an innocuous statement that I made.

And so I am moving on. This is my my-conscience-is-clear post. In regards to all of these conversations that have been weighing on my mind over the past few months.

Done.

Oh, but just so I'm clear. This doesn't mean I'm done stating my viewpoints or beliefs. Just that I'm done beating myself up about it, when I've not actually done anything wrong.

Now, no, I don't think I lost nine pounds of fat in ten days. Nor do I expect to keep up this rate of weight loss.

One thing I forgot to put in my original post is that my endocrinologist said that one of the outward signs of this insulin disoder is a puffy face, neck, and upper abdomen - all caused by major water retention. He said that as the insulin began to get regulated, this would go away.

Well, within just a few days of starting the medication, I started peeing all. the. time. Seriously! It's ridiculous!
By day five, I looked in the mirror and I realized my face looked skinnier (ie. no more puffy face).

Day nine, I realized the top of my "B" shaped belly seemed smaller. Weird, I thought, because even though he had said this was a marker of the disorder, mine had been this way since giving birth, so I just assumed everything got all weird & stretched out from my gigantic pregnant belly.

me, seven months pregnant with FireGirl - told you it was gigantic

And day ten, I stepped on the scale and was down nine whole pounds.

I'm excited. Not just because I've finally managed to lose some poundage, even if it is water weight, but because I'm taking this as a sign that my doctor is right, we are on the right track, and that this course of treatment will get things going in the right direction for me. That, to me anyway, is very exciting.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

That's right folks, internet & TV all in one weekend! It's an entertainment overload at the FireHouse!

And my confession?

I don't know what I'm gonna do when we get everything done.I really don't. I get overwhelmed just thinking about it.

See, right now, we almost have a functional kitchen. Working fridge & stove, finally got water & a kitchen sink. But pots & pans, dishes, etc. are all still packed away. Cabinets still need to be installed, and countertop still needs to be sealed.

Basically, I haven't cooked a meal in 10 weeks.

And our washer & dryer still aren't hooked up.

Basically, I haven't done a load of laundry in 10 weeks.Okay. Not totally true. Sometimes I do it at my mom's or my brother's. But my mom prefers to do it herself during the day because by the time I get there after work I keep the machines running "too late".

And with the renovation still in progress, there's very little cleaning to be done. The occasional sweep with the broom. Pick up FireGirl's toys. Put FireMan's tools away.

And yet I'm somehow still exhausted at the end of the day. No time for anything. Of course it doesn't help that FireGirl has been fighting her bedtime routine, which can now last for hours, but still.

As much as I have come to hate living in a partially-complete house, I am terrified of what life will be like once it's done. How will I ever find time to cook & clean & do laundry & wash dishes and and and...?I'm terrified that FireMan will finally get it all done, and it still will never look like the picture in my head.And it will be all my fault.

Do you ever feel so beat down and stressed and frustrated and worn out and tired and just everything that you just know if you can take any more?
And at the same time, do you worry that maybe you've done or said something to someone else that might have had the same effect on them?

So then you're conflicted.

You are so incredibly at the end of your rope that there's this base, almost instinctual, response building inside of you that makes you want to come out swinging at anyone that approaches you. This need to defend yourself, this need to fight back, to claw your way to the top, to prove yourself.
But at the very same time that you feel the need to defend yourself, you also feel the need to be compassionate, and encouraging, and protective?

And so then you're conflicted.

Because even though you know that you really should just focus on the second one, focusing on taking care of others, that at this point you are sooooooooo exhausted and worn out and tired and just feel like life has beat you down so much that it almost feels necessary to your survival to be selfish and to start clawing at things for yourself, but that just doesn't seem right to you, so your stuck at an impasse, and so....

you do nothing.

And then you decide to apologize to someone you think you might have been to harsh to.

And your apology is slapped back into your face. And you are called names.

And then you try to be nice to someone else.

And they tell you they don't want it.

And you start to think that maybe you would have been better off if you had kept on...

And yes, the camera is an important piece of the story, as I don't really like that my blog is so devoid of pictures lately. I'd love to be one of those bloggers that posts at least a pic or two every day. Of something.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Eight weeks, countless phone calls, and a three hour installation appointment later, we have internet!

Needless to say, I'm not thrilled with the customer service we've received from the provider thus far, but unfortunately in our area, we only have one option for internet service.

After talking with the contractor that came out to do the installation, he said what it boils down to is a lot of the techs are just lazy. They probably drove by, saw the rural setting, didn't even check the lines, and just cancelled the service request as not being able to do it.

Luckily for us, I wasn't buying that.

The contractor that came out said that since we did finally get a successful installation, and it was proven that the previous contractor pretty much lied to get out of doing the work, that he'll probably lose his contract with the utility.

Good. With the job market the way it is I'm sure there are plenty of hard-working, customer-oriented people out there who would just love to jump in and take his spot.

And yes, I can say "guys" without being exluding anyone, because up until last Monday I was the only female.

sidenote - so far I really like the new girl. whew! I was a little worried. you never can tell when you add a 2nd women into the mix

﻿Anywho - they are soooooooo generous. No, really.

Every year, we do a Habitat for Humanity build. Who shows up varies depending on travel schedules, but we regularly have over 50% participation.

For the past five years, we've donated food to the Thanksgiving food drive sponsored by one of our business partnering groups.
This year? We decided to provide our own basket (an entire Thanksgiving dinner contained in a laundry basket). Considering the entire company is only committing to six, and we're the newest, and one of the smallest, divisions in the company, providing our own is, relatively speaking, a big deal.
Not only did we provide an entire basket, our management threw in an additional gift card to Kroger (I have no idea for how much, they didn't want to broadcast it), and we had enough extra donations (items & cash) to provide additional laundry baskets and food items.
And now I have guys complaining because they didn't check their email in time and didn't get to bring anything in.
Didn't get to! I love it! They're complaining because they didn't get to donate!

In addition, every year for the past three years we've adopted a needy family for Christmas. The program is to provide food, toiletries, clothing, & small gifts to families at Christmastime. Well, let me tell you, we don't just adopt the family, as in oh-I-guess-we'll-buy-what's-on-their-list. Oh, no. With the family's permission, we meet with them in their home. Talk to them. Find out what's going on. In the past we've rallied together to provide beds (like entire beds, twin up to queen size), televisions, DVD players, a new front door, door knobs & locks, school supplies, extermination services (bedbug), and more. Oh, and basic food & toiletries? Pshaw! How 'bout so much food they ran out of room in their cabinets?
So this year? We're adopting two families.

*note* - because I always wonder about this - the charities we work with do an awesome job of making sure the families we donate to are really looking for a hand up, not a hand out. In every situation so far they have been "working poor" - every parent working full time outside the home, but still struggling to make ends meet.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

I'm starting to wonder. I guess I need to set up a conference with her teachers.
Or maybe I'm over-reacting.

What do you think?

So a few weeks ago she started hitting and pulling hair, right? But just me. So I think, oh it's just the terrible twos, and it's only directed at me, and I'm the mommy (ie authority figure), so this is part of her figuring out her boundaries, who she is, etc. No biggie.

Then we get out the Barbie. She pulls her hair, saying "Ow!" as she does it. Like she's trying to hurt Barbie. From the very beginning. Like that was the first thing she thought of doing when she saw the doll. I asked her if she wanted me to show her how to do her hair nicely. She said "yes". I showed her. Gave the doll back. She proceeded to pull & yank on Barbie's hair, saying "Ow!" repeatedly as she did it. Then she started pulling Barbie's arms and saying "Ow!", like she was really starting to hurt her.

Earlier this week she hit FireKitty with a toy bowling pin. Hard. FireKitty was sleeping on the couch, and FireGirl picked up the pin, reared back and hit her full force. And laughed. When I explained to her that she hurt FireKitty, that now FireKitty had an owie because of what she did, and didn't FireGirl feel bad? "Nope". Not gonna lie, that kinda freaked me out.
FireKitty is her kitten, and she has always been very gentle & tender w/ her, carried her around, wants to hold her, pet her, love her. This seemingly-out-of-nowhere hitting, and then showing no remorse even though she's told she hurt her beloved kitten? Yeah, kinda freaked me out.

So this morning, we're getting ready for preschool.Me: "Are you going to read books?"FireGirl: "Yep"Me: "Are you going to sing songs?"FireGirl: "Yep"Me: "Are you going to play?"FireGirl: "Yep." {{makes raspberry, her way of saying 'horse'}}Me: "Are you going to ride the horsey?"FireGirl: "Yep"Me: "What about the other kids? Are you gonna play with the other kids?"no response - face is dead-panMe: "Are you gonna play with the other kids today?"FireGirl: "No" {{starts whining}}Me: "why not?"FireGirl: {{starts crying & walks away}}
a few minutes laterMe: "Are you gonna ride the horsey today?" (she loves the horse toy they have there)FireGirl: "Yep"Me: "What about the other kids? Don't you wanna play with the other kids?"no response - face is dead-panMe: "Are the other kids nice to you?"no responseMe: "Are the other kids mean to you?"no responseMe: "Are you gonna play with the other kids today?"FireGirl: "NOOOOooooooooooooooooo!" {{runs off crying}}

So I take her to preschool. We're a few minutes late, the last ones to arrive. When you first arrive, the students have to wash their hands before joining the rest of the class. We wash our hands. I ask FireGirl if she wants to go play and point to the classroom thru the half-door."YES!"
I open the half-door. There are two kids standing right on the other side of the door, but with enough room between them for us to get thru.
She. Won't. Budget.
Won't go near them.
I have to take her hand and lead her thru the kids.

I lead her over to the horsey, and she climbs on happily. I hang up her diaper bag & sweater. I have to stop by the office to pay this month's tuition, and to get out of the building I double-back by FireGirl's classroom. I peek over the half-door.
The rest of the class is sitting at a table listening to the teacher read a story. I don't see her. The teacher sees me, and gestures to the corner.
FireGirl is sitting by herself in a corner, "reading" a book.
The teacher looks at me & shrugs. I shrug back. Because after my conversation with FireGirl this morning, I know she doesn't want to play with the other kids. And if FireGirl doesn't want to do something, well, she ain't doin' it.

So, what do you think? I mean, I know she's shy, but she's been at this school, in this class, with these teachers and these kids for over two months now. She knows the kids by name, if you ask her. So it's not like it's strangers.
I'm really kinda worried that with her new outburst of violent behavior, plus how upset she got when I asked her about playing with the other kids, that something is happening or has happened to her.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Like when you finally get all girly, and pick out a scent at Bath & Body Works to be all your own, and six months later they discontinue it?

Or when McDonalds takes your favorite Value Meal off of their menu? although I did learn you can still order it, it's just not on the menu

Or when the cafeteria at work takes buffalo chicken, your absolute favorite thing that they have that you order regularly, off of their regularly supplied items?

Or like how clothing never fits you right? Never. You're always in between sizes.
And you must just be oddly shaped as well because if your pants fit in the waist then their sagging in the butt, and if your shirt fits in the bust then its bellowing out around your gut, and regular pants are too long, but petite pants are too short.

And a bunch of other stuff too.

And some days you just end up feeling like you just must be the weirdest person ever.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

I finally went and saw an endocrinologist. A really good endocrinologist. Like, one of the top in our area.

He also specializes in obesity & metabolic disorders.

I thought: I've hit the jackpot!

After my weight frustrations, how long my PPD lingered, unexplained fatigue, and some other issues that I just didn't have an explanation for, I finally went.

Like... five weeks ago.

I didn't want to post until I had the results of my labwork. You know, just in case he said "you really are just a fat, lazy slob".

But he didn't.

After giving nine vials of blood, two vials of saliva, and a jug of urine (literally), here's the rundown:

- my vitamin B12 is slightly low
he said it's not a huge deal, but is probably contributing to my fatigue. Recommended an over the counter supplement.

- my vitamin D levels were "shockingly low"
a bigger deal. Also can contribute to fatigue & depression, and is needed for things such as bone strength, is thought to help prevent breast cancer, etc. Because it was so low, he prescribed a daily supplement.

- my sugar levels are whack
hence, my fat butt. This is a little more complicated to explain, so I'll do my best. He said I have "insulin reactive disorder" which basically means my body's response to sugar intake isn't normal. My A1C (checksyour blood sugar over the past three months) showed that my blood sugar on average was around 90, the very low side of normal. Which means I probably spend a great deal of time hypoglycemic, which I already knew. But... he also said it showed signs of these weird spikes, where it would get very high. In fact, my fasting blood sugar, on the day of the test, was 119 - nearly diabetic.
What he thinks is happening is that while I am awake, my body overreacts to sugar intake, my insulin levels rise too high, and consequently the sugar is pushed out of my bloodstream into my cells. Excess sugar in your cells turns to fat.
But he thinks while I am resting, my body basically doesn't acknowledge the sugar at all. So if I eat something sweet before bedtime (which I often do), the sugar sits in my blood, and come morning, my blood sugar is as high as if I had just eaten it.

What does this mean?
Well, basically it means that for me it is very easy to gain weight, and very difficult to lose it (aha! I knew it!). Then, because excess weight is difficult for the body to handle, it makes it even more difficult for your body to regulate its insulin levels.
And thus begins the vicious cycle.

He said even though my blood sugar now tends to be low, he believes left untreated, as this progresses, I would eventually develop Type II Diabetes, because my body would eventually be unable to regulate its own insulin.

So what now?
We're treating it. Aggressively. The medication he thought would be most effective isn't covered by my health insurance (of course), so I am now on a combination of three different medications in hopes of achieving the same results. In fact, he said we should get the same results, just not as quickly as with the one other med. These three medications should essentially regulate my insulin levels, and trick my body into doing what it's supposed to do with sugar.
I also need to lose weight.
A side effect result of the three medications he put me on tends to be a modest weight loss, as the insulin levels normalize, but as I am now obese, I need to lose more than that. So he wants me to restrict my caloric intake.
I still groan inside at the thought, but he promises me that as my insulin levels regulate, I should see noticeable weight loss. Like, a lot. With only moderate effort. Even more with strong effort. Basically I should start losing weight like a normal person.
I don't want to put a number on here, even though he did give me one, because I'm scared. I'm scared that even if I lose, I won't hit that number. And then I would be embarrassed because I posted it on here and everyone would know that I failed.

So today I will go to the pharmacy to pick up my new prescriptions, and tomorrow I will start them.

And tomorrow I will start making better eating choices.

The real calorie restriction will begin Monday, so I can have the weekend to shop for some low-cal options, and plan my lunches for the week

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Because they didn't install the filter. And we found out today that they may charge us extra for coming back out to install the filter because we didn't specifically mention it when we got a quote (really? yes, really).

And because we don't have a filter, we can't drink it or cook with it.

And because our kitchen sink is not yet installed, we can't wash dishes with it.

And because our washing machine is still not hooked up, we can't do laundry with it.

So... even though I feel like I should be really excited about finally getting county water, I just can't get excited about it.

Tonight FireMan is planning to continue installing the kitchen cabinets and countertops. I plan to paint the laundry room, to expedite the hooking up of the washing machine.

... resulted in me, for the very first time, saying "That's it! You're going straight to bed!"

Background: the furnace in our home is not yet up & running. Thus far we've been able to heat the house with a wood-burning fireplace, but with temperatures continuing to drop, we purchased an electric heater to help warm the bedrooms at night, which are on the opposite end of the house as the fireplace.
Yes, the electric heater we bought has all the latest & greatest safety features, including broad-based legs to prevent tip-over, a tip-over sensor which turns the heater off if it does get knocked over, and a cool-touch surface.
But... we want to teach FireGirl that you don't touch heaters, because you can get burned. Because we know that at some point in time she will be at someone's house who doesn't have a cool-touch heater.

Last night, FireMan caught FireGirl reaching towards the electric heater. He very sternly told her "No!", and explained that she could get an owie if she touched a heater.

Fast forward about an hour. FireGirl & I are going thru our bedtime routine of putting toys away (interspersed with her deciding she wants to play with them). Usually before bedtime we also read one book before saying goodnight.

As we carry some toys back into her bedroom, FireGirl stops at the heater. She leans towards it. I say "No, no. Don't touch."
She stops. Looks me in the eye. Still looking at me, she reaches down and places her flat hand on the front of the heater.
I drop what I'm carrying, pull her hands off of the heater, lightly smack the hand she touched the heater with, and carry her the few steps into her bedroom, while saying "That's it! It's night-night time!"
She's already crying as I shut the door behind me.

I realize I can't just leave it at that. Seriously. The light's still on. She doesn't have her lovey (cries of "Tuuuuttteeeelllllllll!" are now coming from her room), and she's just standing at the door upset. I go get Mr. Turtle. Walk back down the hall to her room, and knock on the door before opening it. I hand her Mr. Turtle, announce that's it's time for bed, and point at her bed.
She obediently walks to her bed & climbs in.
I tell her no story tonight.
I call FireMan in to kiss her good night. He does so.
I sit at her bedside to say our prayers, kiss her on the forehead, and tell her goodnight.
As I walk out of the room I turn off the light, say "I love you PunkinButt" and close the door.

It's only 15 minutes before her regular bedtime.

And no, the toys did not all get picked up.

But... I think she got the picture.

Until this morning.

That's right. She touched the heater again. Defiantly. In that you're-not-gonna-tell-me-what-I-can-or-can't-do sort of way that only a toddler can pull off.
I tell her "No!", explain again about how she can get a bad owie if she touches heaters, and order her to sit in the living room and wait for me.
She looks me in the eye, says "no" and turns to go in her room.
I pick her up and carry her into the living room, placing her in the chair. She starts crying. I hold her there. She wrestles against me.
FireGirl finally stops fighting me, but keeps crying. She holds her arms out to me, and I embrace her. We talk again about the potential owies of electric heaters. I tell her I'm not trying to be mean, I just don't want her to get hurt.
I ask her if she's going to touch the heater again. She responds with a quiet "no". I ask her if she's ever ever ever gonna touch a heater again. She says "nu uh", very quietly.
I say okay and let her out of my lap, but ask her to sit in the chair. She complies.

I get this new defiance, this new independence, this testing of boundaries. I get it. She's two. It's what two-year-olds do. It helps them define their world and define their selves.
But I worry. I worry that she will do something just to defy us, and end up injuring herself.

This morning started off great. Happy FireGirl & happy mommy. Ended with a battle of wills. Yes, mommy managed to pull out a win. Barely. But the kind of "win" where you end up badly bruised & exhausted by the end. And late for work.

Joy.

At least the hitting & pulling hair is reserved strictly for me, and not for the other kids in nursery or at preschool, right? That's a good thing, right?

Oh, the would-have-been-funny-if-we-hadn't-been-fighting-for-so-long-already moment? She found her Halloween candy and asked for M&Ms. Specifically, two. I told her she had to ask nicely. After a lot of crying. She finally said "Peeeeeeeese!"
I accidentally poured three into my hand, and instead of putting one back, I told her since she asked so nicely she could have three, and proceeded to put all three M&Ms into her hand.
She cried. Screamed. And threw the M&Ms, while yelling "Twooooooooooo!"

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